


service

by gravitycentered



Series: 30 KINK CHALLENGE [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Service Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 01:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6779947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitycentered/pseuds/gravitycentered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Honestly, it’s hard for Louis to focus on chore days. He isn’t doing the work, but he still has to come up with enough tasks to keep Harry busy; most of his time is spent wondering if it’d be dull for him to have Harry clean the kitchen floors again, or if it’s too much to ask him to rearrange all the guest room furniture by himself. It’s almost like a game from his point of view, playing around with ways to keep Harry occupied. He’d told Louis early on, blushing dark when Louis suggested Harry simply clean out his own closet, <i>”I don’t want to just </i>do<i> things, I want to do things for </i>you<i>,”</i> so every time he wakes up to Harry willing and waiting, he does what he can to give him the tasks that’ll benefit himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	service

**Author's Note:**

> the very first completed fic in my [30 KINK CHALLENGE!](http://zaptains.tumblr.com/tagged/30%20kink%20challenge)
> 
> i'm the only person who's read this, so if you find mistakes they're all my fault. 
> 
> come say hi on [tumblr!!](http://zaptains.tumblr.com/)

As usual, it starts with breakfast in bed. 

Louis’ taken to calling days like this “chore days”, something that began as a joke but morphed into a fitting name for one of Harry’s stranger moods. Harry’s almost always the one to initiate. He makes it clear from the moment Louis wakes up that he wants to be selfless and useful, letting Louis sleep in as long as he likes or making him a generous breakfast to ease him into the day. Today he’s brought Louis a large omelette, two rashers of bacon and a pile of toast, all on a single plate. 

“Morning,” Harry says, quiet while Louis works on blinking himself awake. He sets the plate and a glass of juice down on the nightstand beside Louis’ bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress next to him. “Made you breakfast.” 

“Thanks, love,” Louis gets out, voice dry and gritty. He pushes himself up onto one elbow and grabs the glass for a sip of juice, happily eyeing the plate Harry’s brought him. The obvious lack of a second meal is hard to miss, so he asks, “Where’s yours?” 

“I already ate, had some granola,” Harry says. 

Louis makes a disappointed face at the mere thought of granola with a breakfast like this available. “D’you want some of mine?” 

“No, I made it for you,” Harry insists. “There’s more bacon inside, loads of cheese as well. I was going to put those little sweet peppers you like in, but we haven’t got any.” He picks the plate back up and helps Louis settle against the headboard, nudging a pillow closer for Louis to prop up his back. Once he’s gingerly set the plate in Louis’ lap he carries on, “I’m making your tea right now, as well. Do you want anything else?” 

Even after so long Louis has to fight the urge to make Harry sit and relax with him, to insist he stop waiting on him. When he lets himself enjoy chore days, they’re incredible—Harry’s told him a hundred times by now that he likes to take care of him, and he’s become quite skilled at doing just that. Louis does his best to appreciate the luxury, rather than feeling guilty about it. 

“Just the tea’ll do for now,” Louis says, squeezing Harry’s arm before he stands. 

“I’ll fetch it for you, then,” Harry replies, smiling. 

The omelette is delicious. Louis’ nearly halfway finished with it by the time Harry comes back, carefully cradling a cup of tea that’s nearly full to the brim. He’s just as gentle setting it next to the glass of juice. 

After a second’s pause to swallow his last bite, Louis nods to the empty side of the bed and says, “Come give us a cuddle, yeah?” 

Harry remains careful when he climbs over Louis’ legs and crawls up beside him, moving slowly so that nothing gets spilled. He rests his head on Louis’ shoulder and Louis just lets him stay there while he finishes his breakfast, lightly jostling him every time he has to reach for his tea. It’s a relaxing breakfast, quite cozy, and after Louis begins to feel almost uncomfortably full he coaxes Harry into opening his mouth for bites of bacon, feeding him what he can’t finish himself. 

When neither of them can stomach any more, Harry takes the plate from Louis’ lap and holds it in his own, “Have you finished your tea?” 

“Yeah,” Louis says, passing him the empty cup. The juice glass is still half full, so he tells Harry, “You can have that, if you like.” 

“I’ll take it with me,” Harry tells him, a bit clumsier climbing out of bed with his hands full of dishes. 

He stays gone longer than Louis expects; after several quiet minutes he decides to properly wake himself up and get dressed, rummaging through his closet for something to wear. His jeans are only halfway up his legs when Harry comes back in, watching him from the doorway. 

“Washed the dishes,” Harry says. Louis catches his eyes lingering on his crotch while he zips up his jeans. “Do you, like—d’you want anything else?” 

The suggestion there is obvious, but Louis ignores it. “I’ve got some washing you can do,” he says instead, pulling a t-shirt over his head. “The living room needs a vacuum as well, it’s been a while.” 

“Alright,” Harry says, only the slightest hint of disappointment in his voice. It drops away when he offers, “I can make your bed, too?” 

“Do that. I’m gonna go downstairs for a bit,” he says, giving Harry’s bum a pat on his way into the hall. 

Louis grabs his laptop from the dining table and decides to camp out in the living room, sprawled on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table. Harry doesn’t stay upstairs for long—Louis can hear him lugging the hamper down the steps and into the laundry room, tossing piles of clothes onto the floor to sort. 

Honestly, it’s hard for Louis to focus on chore days. He isn’t doing the work, but he still has to come up with enough tasks to keep Harry busy; most of his time is spent wondering if it’d be dull for him to have Harry clean the kitchen floors again, or if it’s too much to ask him to rearrange all the guest room furniture by himself. It’s almost like a game from his point of view, playing around with ways to keep Harry occupied. He’d told Louis early on, blushing dark when Louis suggested Harry simply clean out his own closet, _”I don’t want to just_ do _things, I want to do things for_ you _,”_ so every time he wakes up to Harry willing and waiting, he does what he can to give him the tasks that’ll benefit himself. 

Harry isn’t terribly worried about efficiency over the end result when he’s in a mood like this, so the laundry takes twice as long as usual. He sorts out Louis’ joggers and briefs with care, like they’re delicate fabrics, setting everything aside in neat piles based on water temperature and color group. The longer he takes, the more anxious Louis gets—he reads and replies to all his emails and spends ages scrolling through his Twitter feed, keeping his earbuds out to listen for the sound of the washer coming on. 

Nearly as soon as it starts up, Harry comes into the living room, pushing the vacuum in front of himself. His cock is blatantly hard in his trousers, and Louis is hit with the absurdity of this routine, that they actually use chores as a bizarre form of sex play. It’s ridiculous, and he loves it. 

“First load’s in,” Harry tells him, smiling as he crouches down to plug the vacuum in. “I’ve made your bed, as well, unless you wanted me to wash your sheets and stuff?” 

“Maybe later,” Louis says. He tucks his legs up under himself and nods at Harry, encouraging him to start vacuuming. The noise and the anticipation make it impossible for him to focus on any of the words he tries to read on his screen, so he shuts his laptop and turns the telly on instead, browsing channels over the white noise. The room is large and Harry is thorough, methodically cleaning every stretch of carpet within the cord’s reach before turning the vacuum off. 

Louis stretches out again and puts his feet flat on the floor this time, slouching a bit against the couch. He listens for Harry when he rolls the vacuum away to empty and store it again, smiling at him when he comes back into the living room. “Come here,” he says, patting the couch before Harry has a chance to ask what he should do next. “Have a lie down, yeah? You’ve been a busy boy this morning.” 

“A lie down?” Harry asks, a little playful, sitting down first. “Don’t want another cuddle?” 

“Could cuddle f’you like,” Louis shrugs. “Figured you’d rather stretch out for a bit, take a rest. Got a built-in pillow,” he says, patting his lap. 

He feels entirely transparent, and the anticipatory look on Harry’s face tells him that he probably is. Harry doesn’t say anything though, just maneuvers himself around and curls up on the couch, facing Louis instead of the TV. He rests his cheek on Louis’ thigh, high enough that his nose nudges up against the side of Louis’ half-hard cock through his jeans. Neither of them mention it, but Louis feels himself jerk inside his pants and thinks Harry feels it too, judging from the way he nuzzles in closer. 

The sex on days like this is much different, hotter in its rarity. Harry’d finally admitted after a particularly huffy chore day that he’d rather not Louis reciprocate, cheeks a bright embarrassed red, “It sounds bad, but like… I dunno, think of me like a sex toy. You can use me to get off and not worry about it.” Since then, Louis has done his best to generally ignore Harry when it reaches this point, and today is no different. He doesn’t react when Harry starts mouthing at his cock through his jeans, just keeps his eyes on the telly and a gentle hand in Harry’s hair. 

Another aspect of chore days—though not one they’ve talked about explicitly—is that Harry never initiates the sex itself. Louis knows that if he didn’t say anything Harry would lie right where he is, pressing little kisses against the zip of Louis’ jeans, likely never making a move to take it further. He gets antsy if Louis doesn’t use him by the evening—usually he’d try to hold off just to watch Harry get more squirmy as the day drags on, but today he’s rapidly growing impatient, already breathing quickly enough that he has to turn the telly up to hear it more clearly. 

Louis manages to last through an entire half hour episode before gently nudging Harry’s cheek with his knuckles as he unzips his jeans, pulling his cock out over the elastic band of his pants. He doesn’t say anything, but the action itself is certainly enough instruction for Harry; he makes a soft, eager sound and tilts Louis’ cock down to suck it into his mouth, keeping his head resting in Louis’ lap. 

Harry’s lack of efficiency on chore days extends to this. He’ll draw it out as long as he needs to, sucking until his jaw aches. Louis knows that Harry would be perfectly happy to be pushed around a bit, maybe get his mouth fucked if Louis wanted to come quickly, but Louis loves the gentle suction of a lazy blowjob, especially when he doesn’t have to focus on anything else. It’s relaxing to know he can take as long as he likes to finish, doubly so because the person sucking his cock actually _wants_ it like that.

Louis can’t properly focus on the TV, but that doesn’t deter him from trying. Harry just sucks him in gentle pulses at first, eyes closed, one hand around the base of Louis’ cock to keep him tilted where he needs him. He’s taken to not even moving his head in the beginning, just very gradually sucking Louis deeper into his mouth over long stretches; the stillness makes it even easier to ignore him like he asked for, not being distracted by the bobbing of his head or the temptation to watch his cock disappear deeper into his mouth. Louis isn’t invincible, however—he spends a full few minutes watching Harry’s eyelashes flutter and rubbing his thumb over his cheek, feeling it hollow when he sucks a little tighter. 

When Harry opens his eyes and catches Louis watching him, Louis feels his cheeks grow warm. It’s almost sweet how Harry curls in closer then, pulling off to allow himself a quick few breaths before slipping Louis’ cock inside again, deep enough that he feels the soft slope at the back of his throat against his tip. It’s hot, knowing Harry can keep him there and not choke on him, but the slide of his mouth after being stationary for so long arguably feels even better. 

“In and out, darling,” Louis decides, giving Harry’s hair a guiding tug to pull him off again. The groan Harry lets out suggests he doesn’t mind the guidance, so Louis twists his fingers through the hair at the back of his head, pushing him back down onto his cock as well. 

Harry doesn’t need to be told what to do, now. He knows to suck tight when he pulls up, how long to pause at the tip, where to rub his tongue before sinking back down. After only a few bobs of his head, Louis feels himself getting closer—the still, gentle sucking got him a quarter of the way there, and now Harry has to put in the proper work to make him come. 

The most enthusiastically Harry sucks him, the more impossible it becomes for Louis to keep himself calm. It’s fun sometimes to try and stay silent from start to finish just to see if he can, but he’s never managed it yet; by the time he starts panting, he can’t convince himself to continue holding back the sounds he’s been keeping in. Harry ends up mirroring his noises; a moan from Louis is met with a softer whine around his cock, sort of like a response, and the shivery vibrations from his voice nudge Louis even closer.

Right before he hits the edge, Louis breathlessly gets out, “Swallow it all for me, love, don’t spill.” Harry makes a somewhat needy sound in reply, nodding and blinking up at him again. He must be able to feel the way Louis’ body goes taut, pulling up to keep his mouth sealed tight around the head of his cock just as Louis starts to come. 

It feels like it lasts for ages, drawn out by Harry’s soft mouth and quiet groan. Louis watches him swallow four times before his cock stops pulsing out come, but Harry still keeps him in his mouth, coaxing out everything he can before Louis finally pulls him off with a gasp. 

“Shit,” he breathes, dropping his head back against the couch. Harry strokes him through that last bit of pleasure, and it takes a long moment for Louis to realize he’s drying the wetness from his cock. Harry’s gentle with him when he’s not as much of a mess, gingerly tucking his cock into his pants and doing his jeans up for him as well, button and zip both. 

“Was that alright?” Harry asks him after a short silence, resting his head in Louis’ lap again, face just as close to his cock as it was before. 

“It was fantastic,” Louis says, playful but honest. He forces his eyes open and looks down at Harry, giving his cheek an affectionate pat. 

Harry smiles happily up at him, eyes a little lazy when he blinks. As Louis has come to expect on chore days, the next thing out of his mouth is, “What do you want me to do now?”


End file.
